


come undone

by tootsonnewts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Shiro, Future Fic, M/M, Porn With Plot, Post-War, Top Keith, bang ur memories out, leash kink, sex as history acceptance, there's a lot of feelings, they're married y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 08:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13520001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: The best part of their anniversary, in Shiro’s opinion, is the fact that they can go untethered to the world - to any world in any universe. Their phones and tablets and communicators are shut off and shoved to the bottoms of sock drawers, their bags are packed full of comfortable clothes rather than anything even remotely resembling training or fighting gear, and they catch a non-lion flight off to somewhere where the sand is warm and the music is bright.or, during their anniversary vacation, keith helps shiro remember just how much he loves him.





	come undone

**Author's Note:**

> me: shiro is a power bottom!!!  
> also me: *writes this*

The best part of their anniversary, in Shiro’s opinion, is the fact that they can go untethered to the world - to any world in any universe. Their phones and tablets and communicators are shut off and shoved to the bottoms of sock drawers, their bags are packed full of comfortable clothes rather than anything even remotely resembling training or fighting gear, and they catch a non-lion flight off to somewhere where the sand is warm and the music is bright.

Keith’s wedding band gleams under the tropical sunshine, a beacon for all to see the commitment they made years ago among the stars before rushing off to separate corners of the galaxy in order to fulfill their birthright. Multiple exhausting battles and near-misses, setbacks and scars, nightmares and restless nights have led them here, and Shiro couldn’t be more grateful. When they were younger, barely even adults, still in the Garrison and dreaming of exploring the stars, Shiro couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the fledgling feeling taking root deep in his gut. It was a tiny thing, just beginning to unfurl, but it was sturdy. It was honest.

A year away did nothing to dampen it. If anything, it served as his only tether back to the little sanity he knew was left for him. Keith and his unending dedication to his goals, his passion for expanding himself past his limitations, his unswerving loyalty to those he holds dear. As Shiro lost vital parts of himself fighting and scraping and bleeding in a foreign arena surrounded by unfamiliar foes, he thought of those serious brows knitting themselves together over textbooks and control panels and found deeper wells of strength to draw from. When Shiro awoke, strapped to a cold table with an arm that wasn’t his, he’d clenched his teeth and imagined a smoky voice reassuring him that things would turn out just as they should. After his escape, when Shiro resurfaced again, strapped to a new table with warnings spilling from his lips, he couldn’t help but to think that Keith would believe him, Keith would understand. The night Keith appeared in front of him, like so much a mirage among the dusty dunes of the desert, he could hardly believe his eyes.

And now, here among the golden rays of the island sun, Keith stands again, taller and older, but no less resplendent. Time has refined him, made him sturdier and wiser, but it’s also made him easier and more secure. He stands before Shiro, a light smile painted across his features, draped in a loose t-shirt and shorts, muscular and gleaming and relaxed. His duffel bag is thrown carelessly over his shoulder, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his fond gaze trained on Shiro’s face as he leans into a taxi to tell the driver where they’re headed.

They slide into the backseat of the cab and sag against the vinyl seats, fingers laced between them. Keith leans against the windowsill with his chin propped on his hand, lids hanging low and taking in the scenery as it whizzes by. Shiro leans against his windowsill with his chin propped on his own hand, taking in Keith. His hair whips around his neck in the breeze blowing in from the open window, long silken strands tracing the slopes and curves of his throat. His violet eyes shimmer with the reflection of the ocean waves lapping at the shore outside. Shiro can’t wait to lay him across the sand under the moonlight and take him in.

Keith cuts a knowing glance toward him from the corner of his eye.

“What are you lookin’ at?”

Shiro smiles and darts his eyes away, watching the horizon and playing his best at nonchalance.

“Hmm, nothing.”

Keith huffs a laugh and squeezes his hand.

“Yeah, okay.”

Their taxi finally pulls to a stop in front of their hotel, Shiro thanking the driver and handing over his credit card while Keith drags their bags out of the trunk to the curb. As they head inside to check in, Keith jabs him in the arm.

“You still haven’t told me anything.”

It was Shiro’s turn to plan their trip, and because he is endlessly unable to control himself when his husband is involved, he may or may not have splurged a bit on the accommodations. He told Keith where they were going, of course, but nothing else. He wants to savor the chance to make their own plans however they want whenever they want.

“You’ll see,” he answers, a smidgen smug and very excited, although he thinks he does a good job at reining it in.

The desk clerk hands them a map of the resort’s layout, circling their destination, and Keith’s eyes widen a fraction as he realizes where they’ll be sleeping for the next seven days: a beautiful beach bungalow built out at the end of a long dock stretching over the water. Their nearest neighbor is fifty yards away at least, and the section of beach attached to everything is the private property of the hotel. For all intents and purposes, they’re all alone out here.

Keith smirks up at Shiro through long, fluttering lashes as he takes his hand and leads him down to the shore.

“I thought,” Shiro murmurs, “some privacy might be nice.”

“Oh yeah?” Keith asks knowingly. “Why so?”

“Well, I mean. Five years is kind of a big deal, y’know? I thought it might be nice to spend some quality alone time with my husband.”

Their shoes clack lightly against the boards of the dock, the swishing of the water beneath them setting a soothing backdrop as they step into their temporary home. Keith drops their bags on the couch in front of them before turning back, wrapping his arms firmly around Shiro’s waist and pressing his lips to his throat.

“Quality time, huh?”

Shiro drops a kiss to the crown of his head, tucking a hand in his back pocket.

“I want this week to be nice for us.”

“Unless one of us comes down with some sort of island fever, I’m positive it will be.”

Keith lays his cheek against Shiro’s chest, right over his heart, and breathes in time with its steady thrumming. Shiro closes his eyes, enjoying the silence. That is, until his stomach gurgles, absolutely destroying any semblance of peace they may have had.

“How about dinner first?”

They settle on the hotel restaurant, both too tired from the flight and getting settled in to wander far. It’s surprisingly good, as far as hotel food goes. The seafood is caught locally, the vegetables grown on the island, even the alcohol is made nearby. Their meal passes quickly, packed with comfortable chatter and grazing legs. Keith laughs more than he’s had the opportunity to in a while, eyes crinkled and shining in the light of the candle placed in the center of their table. Each new smile strikes Shiro right in the heart, sending him reeling and fluttery, all lightheaded and swooning. He feels like a teenager again, woozy with the giddiness of first love.

If he’s honest with himself, Keith was always his first love. Sure, he’d dated and spent time with others, but Keith was the first to crack him open and really look inside. Keith saw him just as he was and didn’t run away. Keith realized that Shiro was at times single-minded to a nearly destructive degree, nearly untamable with ambition, just on the right side of too wild, and he cared for him all the same. He embraced Shiro’s weaknesses just as much as his strengths and he trusted him with the kind of unshakeable devotion that could crumble lesser men.

Keith let Shiro in just as easily. He let him see the boy afraid of loss, afraid of disappointing, afraid of failure. He let Shiro see the boy who burned for answers, who fought for justice, who thought plainly and pragmatically. Keith fit along Shiro’s roughest edges, and let Shiro fill his cracks. They were a perfect match, although it took some time to get there. But here they finally are, happy and fulfilled, able to casually converse over romantic meals and coconut rum without averting their eyes or skittering away.

Dessert comes and goes, accompanied by a second drink and a third. The alcohol sets them loose-limbed and buzzing, laughing together as they make their way back to their cabin and flop onto the couch. Keith turns on the TV in their living room and lays down on Shiro’s thighs, gesticulating wildly and talking about a hiking trail he saw a brochure about in the lobby that he wouldn’t mind checking out.

Keith is warm and soft and pliant, draped silk-smooth and sighing across Shiro’s lap as Shiro plays his fingers through his hair. It isn’t fair, he thinks, that one man should look so beautiful in repose. Stretched as he is along the length of the couch, arms curled under his chin, Shiro can’t help but be reminded of royal cats of old - all pampered and attitudinal with the trappings of softness and welcoming that trick innocent bystanders into their claws. He’s built upon lithe, lean lines, sinew and strength, determination and grace with a bite. He’s all Shiro’s and Shiro is all his. He has been for longer than he’d maybe care to admit.

The overwhelming honesty of their dedication to each other never fails to surprise him; it’s as easy as breathing. There is no question as to who the most important person is in their world, and who they fight the hardest for. Shiro pulls Keith into his arms, pressing him close to his chest and leaning back against the cushions. They’ll need to go clean up soon, but it’s so comfortable staying close and reveling in each other’s presence.

A few more minutes slip by, Keith absentmindedly humming as Shiro continues his ministrations, until Keith breaks the silence.

“I have something for you,” he whispers against Shiro’s neck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought I’d get you something special since five years is kind of a round number.”

“It’s not,” Shiro laughs.

“Maybe not,” Keith concedes, “but you’re really gonna like this gift.”

He drags his hands down Shiro’s chest, tugging at the hem of his ridiculous Hawaiian shirt.

“Am I now?” Shiro raises an eyebrow as Keith traces a parrot flying a coconut across his stomach. He leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Shiro’s lips.

“Mmhmm. You gotta come get it, though,” Keith answers, dragging his teeth across Shiro’s bottom lip and climbing off his lap. He backs into their bedroom, deep eyes burning into Shiro. Those eyes light a dull flame of desire deep in his gut. They always do, and they always will, he suspects. Shiro hastily shoves himself up from the couch, trailing dazedly after his husband. His fingers dance at his sides, itching with the need to reach out and drag touches along Keith’s velvet skin.

He slips through the threshold, sucking in a breath when he takes in the scene before him. Sprawled across the bed is Keith, naked and gleaming, all creamy skin and intense gaze, a satin bag laid out next to him. He crooks a finger expectantly at Shiro, drawing him in like a magnet.

“C’mere, baby,” he beckons, a smirk laid across his lips.

A switch is flipped deep in Shiro’s head, his most animal instincts triggered. Keith is presented before him, like so much a meal, and all he wants is to take him, to claim him, to bring him in and make him a part of himself. He growls low in his throat, stalking to the bed. Along the way, he slowly unbuttons his shirt, dropping the flimsy fabric to the ground. His jeans and underwear follow behind, and finally, he comes to a stop at the foot of the bed.

Keith is half hard and carnal below him. He’s still smirking; a challenge in his eyes as he picks up the bag and holds it out to Shiro.

“Your gift.”

Shiro quirks an eyebrow, eyes still trained to his husband’s face as he unlaces the drawstring and reaches inside. His fingers close around something, and at first, he’s not entirely sure what it is. It’s thin and stiff, cool and buttery under his hand. It jingles a bit when he moves to pull it out of the bag and study it under the warm lamplight of their room.

The breath rushes from his chest as Shiro looks down at the collar laid across his palm. He looks up at Keith’s face, serene and mischievous.

“There’s something else,” and there most certainly is. Shiro can feel the weight still in the bag. He already knows what it is when he pulls out the thin chain leash.

“I thought,” Keith purrs, crawling forward on the bed, “this might be something you’d like.”

Shiro bounces his eyes up from the items clutched in his grip to Keith’s face. His expression is open and honest, if not a little nervous, like he’s worried Shiro will say no to this. Like Shiro could ever say no to this.

The blood leaves Shiro’s head and rushes through his body, his nerves alight and sizzling. He reaches a hand out to cup Keith’s cheek. “Are you sure?”

Keith pushes his face into Shiro’s hand, nuzzling a smooth check against battle calloused skin. “I’m always sure with you. I wanna do this for you, Shiro.”

God, Shiro loves him. He leans down to press his mouth to Keith’s, a deep, probing kiss. He slips his tongue out, teasing it between lips and teeth, tasting Keith’s very essence. Keith groans low in his throat and Shiro draws back, setting the leash down on the bed next to them. Keith’s hand strokes down the side of Shiro’s face, touch skating over his jaw to the curve of his neck. His thumb rubs across the smooth flesh of his throat and slowly, slowly, he wraps his fingers around the column of it, lightly squeezing.

Shiro gasps, pushing into Keith’s grip around his neck. Shiro’s body burns for him, this beautiful man who would light fires and fight gods just to be at his side. Keith tightens his fingers and leans up to whisper in his ear.

“I love you so much, baby.”

He licks across Shiro’s earlobe, catching it between teeth. Shiro whines, a miniscule sound, and Keith releases him. He lifts the collar between them, undoing the small leather belt. It’s a thing of beauty, perfectly crafted to suit Keith’s tastes; smooth black leather, untouched and plain with gold buckles at the back, and a single, golden loop at the front with a small bell dangling down. Shiro gives it a flick and it tinkles lightly, almost comically so. Keith’s eyelids drop to half mast, and his searing gaze focuses in on Shiro’s throat. Shiro presents his neck like an offering, a submissive gesture that he would never show to another soul so long as a pulse still resides within him.

As Keith fastens the collar around his neck, Shiro’s eyes roam over the scars scattered about his shoulders and chest and he can’t help but think back to the first time he realized just how much he meant to him.

 _“Come on, come_ on _,” Shiro grits out, shoving Black’s controls forward toward the base. His readout panels blare and flash all around him, screaming warnings and anomalies into the confines of his cockpit. He forces his lion toward the surface, weaving through turret fire and enemy ships as he hurtles down. His target looms large ahead as he draws nearer, terrifyingly sharp and severe. The last time he’d seen a complex this foreboding was the last time he’d seen his right arm._

_Quickly, he shoves the thought from his mind. He doesn’t have time to fall victim to his fear. He has something more important to do._

_“Pidge, you got anything for me?” he shouts into the communicator._

_“No, Shiro! I can’t find anything! No heat signatures, no outgoing signals, nothing!” she calls back, hurried typing clacking along in the background._

_“Keep looking!” he yells, settling Black down on the surface._

_He knew this would happen. In a sense, he always knew this would happen. The universe always saw fit to tear them apart. When Keith left them to join the Blades and carve his own path across the universe, Shiro wondered whether that path would ever lead back to him, whether it would loop around eventually, and Keith would come strolling back like nothing had ever happened._

_Fortunately, the Blades became a close ally of Voltron, due to their shared goals and a very certain half-Galra boy with a stare that could move mountains. Shiro could see him often enough, speak with him often enough to sate his need to ensure his safety. Although he was gone, Keith was never entirely gone._

_But here, now, he may well be._

The buckles of the collar fit right into place as though they had already been broken in. Even while new, this feels like well-tread ground between them. An expedition and path they’ve traveled multiple times. It’s natural and relaxed to be here, tearing themselves open for the other to see.

Shiro leans forward into Keith’s touch, breath heavy with desire and expectation. He’s wound up tight under his husband’s hands, a livewire waiting to spark. Shiro smiles and reaches out as Keith clips the leash to the collar. He drags a palm across Keith’s superheated flesh. He’s always run so hot.

_Shiro’s boots smack against the metal walkways as he plunges deeper and deeper into the base. His bayard glows with deadly light, cutting down all in his path. He continues forward, running faster toward the last place Keith’s signal had pinged from._

_It was supposed to be a simple infiltration. Drop Keith in, send him through the vents to retrieve a memory stick of central Galra files, drop in for an extraction. There was a mole somewhere. The Galra knew they were coming. As quickly as he’d entered, Keith was dragged from the vent shaft he crawled through, kicking and grunting, shouting for the others to leave him behind, before a gut-wrenching scream tore across the channel and his comms unit cut off._

_Shiro reaches Keith’s last known location and shoulders through the door. Inside, he finds him, unconscious and draped over the shoulders of a Galra Commander they’d never encountered before. He’s so pale, so limp and lifeless. Shiro can’t get a read from his suit and he’s terrified. He’s too late. He’s too late and Keith is gone._

_Shiro yells a guttural war cry and charges forward, weapon drawn and aimed directly for Galran flesh. A bloodlust curls itself around his spine, gripping him around every nerve and pulsing behind his eyes. He will have vengeance. He will have a sacrifice. A life for a life. It’s what’s fair. It’s what’s owed._

_The Galran drops Keith, a heap of limbs and raven hair piled on the floor, and rushes to meet Shiro in the center of the room. It’s much too late. Shiro is a reaper come to collect, and this monster owes the greatest of debts. Shiro tosses his bayard off to the side; he wants to do this the hard way. He needs to do this the hard way. His Galran arm blazes to life, crackling with quintessence, singing the sweetest death song. A Galran death by a Galran hand; it only seems fitting. The Commander doesn’t have time to register the blow. His corpse falls to the ground with no resistance._

_Shiro stands frozen, chest heaving, eyes wild. He scans the room until his eyes land on the reason he was even here. Keith. Keith unmoving. Keith alone and small. His Keith. The only thing more beautiful than the stars. He would pull those very stars from the sky to see his eyes open again. His eyes full of galaxies and supernovas. The only universe Shiro needs to fight for._

_He rushes forward, dropping to his knees next to Keith._

_“Keith?” Shiro whispers, tugging his gloves off and gathering the boy up in his arms. He presses his hands to Keith’s neck, searching for a pulse. His skin is so cold._

Keith gives the leash a little tug, not enough to move Shiro in the slightest, just enough to test the clasp and feel resistance. Shiro whimpers low at the move, crowding forward to sit in Keith’s lap. Keith leans into him, nosing at the place where the leather meets skin.

“You’re always so warm for me, baby.”

Keith dips his tongue under the collar, dragging thick saliva along Shiro’s veins. He shudders when Keith pulls away, a thin string of spit stretching and breaking between them.

“Keith, please,” Shiro begs. Keith always loves it when he begs. They’re not the type to beg.

_“Keith, please,” Shiro begs, shaking him by the shoulders. “Keith, please. Please wake up. Come on, buddy, come back to me.”_

_Shiro’s hands tremble, patting every bit of skin he can find, smacking cheeks and pinching arms. He remembers, vaguely, all the ways he was told to treat field injuries back in the Garrison, all the ways to check for life. The instructions fail him now, fleeing his mind as quickly as his pulse flutters._

_It’s not right, how still Keith is beneath his hands. Keith, always so full of fire and life, always ready to charge. Keith, dedicated and steadfast in the face of adversity. A boy too big for the body that contains him. A boy full of simplicity and magnitudes. Shiro rolls Keith’s head around to face him. The sickly purple glow of the lights inside the room make his skin shimmer an otherworldly tone. He looks ethereal and powerful, an elfin prince waiting to awaken from slumber. Even in death he’d be so beautiful, of course he would._

_Shiro turns his comms unit on, scooping Keith up and juggling his body in his arms._

_“Pidge, get a pod ready!”_

_“Did you find him? Is he okay?!”_

_“I don’t know.”_

“Please what, Baby?” Keith asks, leaning back.

Keith presses forward, dropping a hand between them to paw at Shiro’s erection. His fingers lightly trace down Shiro’s shaft, running smooth over the skin and brushing against the head, twisting lightly as he pulls away. Shiro hisses through clenched teeth, thrusting up into his husband’s touch. Keith grabs him by the back of his head, tugging back harshly on his hair.

“Please, I need you,” Shiro gasps out, neck fully extended and straining against Keith’s sharp grip. Shiro can’t help it, he can never help it; Keith may be willing to burn the world and murder her gods, but Shiro would prostrate himself at the foot of every altar for Keith. He would drown himself in the lava of every volcano as a tribute. He would fight and rampage and tear enemies limb from limb just to kneel before him. Keith looms over him, licking a hot stripe up the center of his neck to his chin. Shiro trembles in his arms.

“God, baby. Look at you,” Keith exhales, shoving Shiro back to lie across the covers. “You’re so wound up and I’ve barely touched you yet.”

He drags his hands down Shiro’s sides, smoothing elegant fingers across his ribs and hips. He dips the callous-roughened pads of his thumbs into the creases of Shiro’s hips, tracing down and around the base of his straining cock. It sits so hard against his stomach, flushed and pink, dripping and neglected. Keith takes the leash in his hand, sliding it in the loop around his fingertips. There’s too much slack in it yet to do anything, but the insinuation of control is there. For now, it’s enough.

Keith sits on his haunches at Shiro’s feet and stares down across the expanse of him. There’s so much Shiro wants from him. There’s so much he wants to give him. There’s so _much_. Keith slides his hands up Shiro’s legs, leaning down to nose up the inside of his thighs. He drags his face up thick, scarred legs until he comes to rest in a soft mound of hair, lips pressed against lust-heavy balls.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he croons. In one swift motion, he licks a stripe up the underside of Shiro’s cock, and swallows him down to the root. The head hits the back of his throat and Shiro shouts with the feel of it. Keith hums, muscles constricting around Shiro, and bobs his head, hollowing his cheeks just the way he knows he likes.

“Keith,” Shiro moans. Keith draws himself up off of Shiro and quirks a brow at him.

“Honey,” he answers and takes Shiro back in his mouth.

The warm heat lights sparks throughout his body, but the pet name sets Shiro on fire.

_Shiro slings Keith across his shoulders and takes off from the room, running back down the hallways he just rampaged through. Doors open easily for him, jumping out of the way as if they know the precious cargo he carries. Keith is still motionless in his grip, flopping around on his back like a ragdoll._

_“Shiro, the pod is prepped. As soon as you get up here, we can throw Keith in!” Pidge crackles over his speaker._

_“Thanks, Pidge,” Shiro huffs, bursting from the complex and running back to Black. His feet slip around over the muddy ground, throwing him off balance. Keith isn’t a lot of extra weight, but his body changes Shiro’s equilibrium just enough to make the slog more difficult._

_Black drops open her hatch upon Shiro’s approach._

Worried, _rumbles through the back of his mind._

_“Yeah, girl. I am,” he says back to her._

Fear _, a statement, not a question._

_“Yeah, I’m afraid.”_

Alive _, she intones, confident. The air leaves Shiro’s lungs in a rush. He lays Keith down across the floor of the cockpit, pillowing his head on top of a spare jumpsuit. He sets a hand against Keith’s cheek. He’s alive. He’s_ **_alive_ ** _. Black said it herself. Relief floods through him enough that he can fully take in the state of Keith’s health._

_He’s bleeding heavily from a slash across his chest, there’s a nasty bruise forming along his jaw, his lip is split right down the center. All told, it doesn’t look great._

_But he’s alive._

_That’s all Shiro needs._

_It’s all he could ask for. It’s all he needs. Keith has to stay alive. He needs him. He could never survive losing him._

Honesty, _Black grumbles at him, and yeah, okay, maybe he deserves it. It shouldn’t have taken the threat of Keith’s demise to admit to himself what he should have so long ago. He needs to tell Keith. He has to say it. If he doesn’t soon, he may never, and that’s not fair._

_“Keith, stay with me, honey.”_

_Shiro slips into his chair and lifts Black off the ground._

“Keith, oh my god,” Shiro murmurs as Keith drops him from his lips with a final swirl of his tongue.

“Yes, baby?” he asks, scaling Shiro’s body to kiss him again.

“Please, I need-”

Keith doesn’t let him finish the statement. He nips Shiro on the shoulder and drops his hands, flipping him over, facedown on the bed and pinned down by his body weight. He takes the leash back up in his hand, the links jingling against each other as it coils beside Shiro’s head.

Keith props himself back on his knees and kneads his fingers down along Shiro’s spine, dragging nails over his skin, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to mark. Enough to _claim._ He reaches his ass and stops for a moment, and Shiro can feel his hands hovering, feel the heat rolling off of him. He kneads at the skin, pulling and smacking. Shiro’s breath puffs out at each pat of his hand, shaky and thick.

Shiro’s dick is painfully hard between his legs, and it throbs, reminding him that this gift is technically for him.

“Keith,” he whines. “ _Keith._ ”

Keith spreads Shiro open and spits into the crack of his ass once, twice, a third time. A moan tears itself from Shiro’s chest, loud and ragged in the room.

“Shhh, baby. Soon, I promise.”

Keith tugs back lightly on the leash and Shiro’s back arches, his ass lifting up from the bed. Keith leans down, setting his dick between the cheeks. He drags himself through the spit he placed, slick and sticky.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, thrusting forward, rutting himself against his husband. “Is this what you need?”

“God, yes,” Shiro hisses, shoving his hand under the pillows and rooting around for the bottle of lube they’d placed there when they unpacked. He hits against it and withdraws his hand, thrusting it back at Keith.

“Keith, please. Hurry up!”

_“Come on, girl. Hurry up!”_

_Minutes that feel like years that feel like centuries pass, and finally, Shiro lands Black in her hangar. He’s out of his chair and lifting Keith up from the floor before her engines can finish shutting down. He rushes from her cockpit and down the ramp, tearing through the castle toward the med bay. He turns a corner and nearly runs directly into Lance._

_“Dude! Is he okay?” Lance asks, jogging beside Shiro._

_“He’s alive,” Shiro answers tersely. “But that’s about all I know.”_

_“Don’t worry, man. The pods’ll fix him right up!”_

_“I hope so.”_

_They bound into the the bay, a healing pod already raised from the ground and open to welcome its new occupant. Pidge is seated nearby, a castle tablet in her hands, eyes flicking over the screen. She looks up to them as they run into the room, and blanches when she sees Keith heaped in Shiro’s arms._

_“He looks...wow,” she begins. “He looks bad.”_

_“He’s looked better, that’s for sure,” Lance chirps nervously._

_Shiro gently places Keith inside, squeezing a hand around his fingers before stepping back to let the lid close. His fingers are cold and clammy in Shiro’s grip, and it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. He should be warm and soft, not...this._

_The bay doors slide open in a rush as Hunk and Allura come bounding in._

_“Shiro, we heard you were back,” Allura exclaims, stopping beside him to look over Keith’s still form. “I asked Coran to fly for now so I could come check in on you.”_

_“According to the readouts, he’s going to be in there for a few days at least,” Pidge says, looking over the tablet in her hands._

_Shiro sighs, setting his forehead against the glass._

_“I came to check on both of you,” Allura clarifies, setting a hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “Are you alright?”_

_His fingers drag along the glass of the pod._

_“I don’t know.”_

_He looks down at Keith’s fingers again. They look so brittle and small._

Keith chuckles low and dangerous and pops open the cap of the lube bottle to dribble some across his fingers. Shiro looks back to watch him, and they make eye contact, Keith quirking a lip at the sight of Shiro before him. He drops his hand between Shiro’s legs, tracing slick fingers between warm cheeks, circling gently around his fluttering hole. Shiro groans and pushes back toward the touch. Keith clicks his tongue and tugs back harshly on the leash.

Shiro chokes with the pressure, but refuses to let the sound drop from his mouth mouth, obediently sitting back on hands and knees, ass presented out for Keith’s hungry gaze. Keith folds over his back, lips grazing up his neck.

“You okay, baby?”

Shiro shudders a breath and looks back over his shoulder. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Keith yanks on the chain again and dips a finger inside Shiro. “Now behave.”

Shiro groans, pressing into the touch, rooting around for more of the sensation buzzing up his spine.

“Keith, c’mon,” he begs again. “Please, baby, I’ll be good.”

“If you’re sure,” Keith drawls. He presses his finger all the way in, up to the knuckle, rubbing along Shiro’s walls as he goes. He pulls back, pressing in again and again until Shiro is loose around him, and adds another. Shiro cries out into the room, rolling his hips back on Keith’s fingers, panting and squirming. He rides Keith’s hand, sucking in air between his teeth. He feels so good like this, spread out beneath Keith and taking whatever he deigns to give. He thrusts back hard against his husband’s fingers and cranes his neck to look up at him.

Sweat rolls across Keith’s skin, glistening in the low light, and it’s so beautiful. He glitters with it, a siren perched atop white cotton. Keith doesn’t notice his attention, instead watching in fascination as his fingers disappear repeatedly inside Shiro, hot skin fluttering around them. The sight sends shockwaves straight to his dick, pulsing in time with the motion of Keith’s hand.

Groaning to himself, he adds a third finger, stroking smooth and deep inside Shiro until he yells, back arching as sparks light up behind his eyelids.

“Is that it, baby? Did I find it?” Keith asks as if he doesn’t already know, as if he hasn’t done this hundreds of times already, pressing into the spot again.

“Yesyes _yes._ Fuck, don’t stop, Keith. Please, don’t stop.”

Keith pumps his fingers more, speeding his movements and twisting his hand. He tugs back again on the leash, forcing Shiro up on his knees, back laid against Keith’s chest.

“Do you think this would do it?” Keith asks, rubbing in deep. “Could you get off just like this?”

Shiro whines low in his throat. Of course he could, he has before. Keith’s fingers flick at his prostate again, fluttering presses that don’t do much but push him higher and higher, keening and sloppy, teetering on the edge of falling. Shiro rocks his hips back, furiously grinding down to catch at Keith’s fingers, clenching and unclenching around them. Keith hums a disapproving sound and pulls his fingers out.

“I don’t think that’s what you want at all, Takashi.”

_The first day in the pod passes with very little progress. The bruise on Keith’s jaw begins to lighten, his cracked lip knitting back together. By nightfall, his face almost looks untouched. That’s the only change, though. His chest is still torn open, although the slash is closing by degrees. His pulse remains sluggish and heavy. He looks waxen in the healing pod, his skin greyed and pallid._

_The paladins flit in and out as the hours pass, offering comfort, food, hydration. Shiro is uninterested in all of it. He busies himself reading reports on his tablet, but until there is official business to be addressed, he refuses to leave his post. He refuses to leave his best friend. He refuses to leave his-_

_“You know,” Pidge drawls, strolling through the door on Keith’s second day in the healing pod, “if I didn’t know better, I would say that there’s a very specific reason you’re sitting here and not in your room, or on the bridge, or in the training room.”_

_Shiro schools his features before turning away from the pod to look over at Pidge._

_“I don’t know what you mean.”_

_“Buddy.”_

_“Pidge.”_

_“You can tell me the truth. I see things, you know. I have eyes.”_

_“We all have eyes.”_

_“Yeah, but mine are better at catching details than some others, I think,” she answers, sliding her glasses up the bridge of her nose with a knuckle. “My eyes see the way your eyes look at him.”_

_“I just think someone should keep an eye on him, is all.”_

_“We’ve all offered to do it, and you flat-out refused.”_

_“You’re all busy. I just want to make sure you don’t get pulled from your work.”_

_“I don’t think that’s what you want at all, Shiro.”_

“You know I’m right, baby,” Keith intones, dragging his hand up Shiro’s abs. The touch melts him to the very core until he goes pliant in Keith’s lap. Keith turns him around to face him with a tug on the leash and a pat at his waist. “I wanna watch you.”

He leans forward to drop his lips to Shiro’s, sucking and biting harshly at his lower lip. Shiro whines into his mouth, licking out against his lips and thrusting his hips lightly, absently, not even realizing he’s doing it at first. Their dicks rub together, the friction making them both groan, and Keith growls deep in his throat. He lays a final kiss to Shiro’s lips and shoves him, hard, in the center of the chest.

Shiro falls back into the pillows and sheets crumpled up beneath him, chest heaving and cheeks pink. He spreads his legs slowly, smirking up at Keith. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows he looks good doing it. Keith squeezes more lube in his hand and leans down between his legs, throwing them around his waist. Without warning, he slides three fingers back inside him, fluttering his fingers and pressing his walls.

Shiro moans, guttural and hungry, and shoves his hips back, grinding down on his hand. Keith tugs back on the leash, sitting back to get his attention. Shiro snaps his eyes up to him, clouded and dazed with the desire to chase his release.

“I don’t think I told you you could move, sweetheart,” Keith rumbles. Shiro flushes down to his chest and reaches out to him.

“Keith, please. I need you. I need you so bad.”

He clenches down around Keith’s fingers, keening high in his throat. The flames coursing through Shiro’s veins burn higher, and he can no longer ignore them. He wants to be good, he wants to be so good, but he wants to come _more._ He tries to express his want, but he can’t put the words together. He huffs in frustration, shifting around on the bed until a soft touch against his cheek pulls him out of it.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” Keith pulls his hand out and grabs for the lube one last time. He slicks himself up until he’s dripping and lines himself up with Shiro.

“You want it, baby?” he whispers, barely pushing forward.

Shiro’s breath hitches high in his throat. “Yes, god, _please._ ”

Keith pushes forward again, barely breaching the tight ring of muscle. He leans forward, holding the leash out to the side, and hovers, nose-to-nose with his husband.

“How bad do you want it?” he demands. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Oh my god, Keith. Holy shit.”

Shiro scrunches his eyes closed, puffing a short, sharp breath between them. Keith draws his hips back again, just the tip of his cock resting against Shiro’s asshole again.

“No baby, don’t,” Shiro whines, chasing down after him.

“Tell me. How bad. You want it,” Keith growls, resolutely keeping Shiro from what he wants.

“Fuck, I want it so bad. I want you inside me so fuckin’ bad, baby. Let me have it. I’ve been so good. Haven’t I been so good?” Shiro makes to keep babbling, but the words die in his throat as Keith slides in, fully seating himself inside him in one smooth motion. They moan together, pressed against each other and shaking. The first push is always the most sensitive for them both, it always hits them the hardest. Shiro revels in it, in the idea that he can reduce and be reduced so effectively.

“Oh, baby, you’ve been so good,” Keith praises, running his hand up and down Keith’s side. “You’re so good for me.”

Shiro squirms beneath him and Keith draws back, sliding in again slow and deep. He takes his time, languidly pumping his hips in long, steady strokes. Shiro curses and moans under him. Keith knows it’s not quite enough for him to get off, and he has no qualms voicing his displeasure.

“Keith, jesus _fuck._ Would you _please_ fuck me already, oh my god.”

“But you look so pretty like this,” Keith says, dragging fingers along his sweat-soaked skin, leaving him panting and writhing. He knows the best part of bedding him for Keith is watching him unravel. There are times when Shiro wishes he could really take his time, when he could spend hours taking him apart until he’s nothing but aborted syllables pouring from kiss-swollen lips. This is not one of those times.

Keith always says he’s the best when he’s sloppy-sweet and crying. Shiro realizes that’s where they’ll be heading this evening. He’d sealed his fate the moment he presented his throat to his husband without a single thought. Keith doubles down, keeping his slow smooth pace, but snapping his hips on the landing, punching into Shiro at the very end of each stroke. He tugs on the leash every time he buries himself, mouthing at Shiro’s jaw and threading fingers lovingly through his hair. Shiro’s eyelids flutter with every stroke of Keith’s dick, with every pet of his touch.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asks, voice full of adoration.

_It takes another two days for the healing pod to slide open and Keith to come stumbling out, all newborn fawn legs and drooping shoulders. The damage didn’t look so intense when Shiro set him inside, but perhaps the internal injuries were worse than they had all assumed. Keith is nothing if not a master of disguising his hurt. Shiro catches him in his arms as he trips forward on a seam in the floor._

_“Woah there, buddy. Careful now.”_

_Keith curses his legs and looks confusedly up into Shiro’s face. His eyes are dimmed and bleary from the jetlag the pods always send them through, sleep gathered in the corners of his eyes. His cheeks are dusted pink and his bangs stick to his forehead. He looks smaller than he ever has, and ready for a two-day shower followed by a week-long nap._

_Shiro clears his throat._

_“How are you feeling?”_

_“You know,” Keith croaks, stopping to clear the dryness from his throat. “You know how sandpaper feels but how tv static sounds?”_

_“Yes?” Shiro answers, trying not to sound like he’s asking a question, but ultimately failing._

_“That. That’s how I’m feeling.”_

_Shiro laughs, shifting Keith around in his arms until he’s standing on his own two feet._

_“That’s unfortunate, but understandable. You were in there for the better part of a week.”_

_“I was-what?! A week?”_

_“Yeah,” Shiro chuckles uncomfortably. “We were all pretty worried about you.”_

_“Yeah, but nobody was Shiro-level worried,” Lance says from behind Shiro, and he startles, whipping around to find him standing lazily in the doorway. “Good to see you up and moving, bro.”_

_“Thanks,” Keith answers absently. He turns his attention back to Shiro. “Shiro-level worried?’_

_Shiro clears his throat awkwardly and runs a hand up the back of his neck. Lance cackles wildly from the entry of the room. Shiro doesn’t believe in physical violence between members of a team, but for the briefest of moments, he imagines throwing things at Lance. He doesn’t even need to specify the things. Just the throwing. Heavy throwing._

_“Anyway,” he diverts, “we really gotta get you cleaned and rested up, yeah? You’ve gotta be exhausted.”_

_“Yeah, okay,” Keith agrees, although Shiro knows he’s unconvinced. He can hear it in his voice. He can see it in the slant of his shoulders. He can feel the walls going up and it’s so frustrating. Keith literally escaped death and Shiro is just making things worse, thinking about his own feelings. He should know better than this. He can do better than this._

_They walk silently through the halls to the wing with their sleeping quarters. When they reach Keith’s room, they hover for a moment outside the door. The air between them is charged with a strange uneasiness that’s never been there before. It itches and weighs uncomfortably on Shiro’s shoulders. He tries to think of something to say, of some way to get his concern and relief across, but his mind won’t put the thoughts together. His words die in his throat._

_A gentle touch flutters at his elbow._

_“You stayed with me, didn’t you?” Keith asks, voice full of concern._

_Shiro chuckles low. “Don’t worry about me, you’re the one we should be worried about. Let’s get you inside so you can clean up and go to sleep, okay?”_

_Storms roil behind Keith’s eyes. Shiro can see the arguments coiling behind his lips, but at the last moment, he tamps them down, sighing instead._

_“Okay, but can you just...I dunno, can you stick around for a while?”_

_“Of course I can.”_

_Keith smiles at him, a strained upturn of his lips, but a smile all the same. Shiro’s stomach flutters. He knows they’re not finished here. Keith opens his door, and Shiro trails in after him, making a beeline for the bathroom to start the shower. When he emerges, Keith has his back turned to him, pulling off his shirt. Scars litter his once clean back, a testament to all they’re been through and a reminder of the cost of what they have to do._

_Shiro clears his throat. “Water’s ready for you. Do you need help getting in?”_

_Keith glares at him over his shoulder._

_“Alright, alright,” Shiro concedes, raising his hands in surrender. “Just asking.”_

_Keith disappears into the bathroom, and as he bathes, Shiro sits on the edge of the bed, considering how best to address his feelings. If things keep on at their current rate, he estimates the war should be ending in a year or two. They’ve made great progress, and they just have a little more to go. Before they reach the end, Shiro has to figure out how to keep Keith close once they get there._

_More time than he realizes slips past, and soon enough, Keith emerges in a billow of steam, rubbing his hair with a towel and stumbling toward the bed. Shiro stands just in time for him to throw his body face-down in the sheets and grumble._

_“I’m sorry buddy,” Shiro laughs, bending down toward him. “I didn’t quite catch that.”_

_Keith turns his head to the side to look up at him._

_“I said,” he grouses, reaching out and tugging Shiro down to the bed with him, “that you’re not leaving until we talk.”_

_He rearranges Shiro to his liking, pillowing his damp hair on his stomach and closing his eyes. Shiro threads his fingers through the strands, working out knots and smoothing down curls._

_“Whatever happens, we have to get our shit together.”_

_“I don’t know what you mean, Keith.”_

_A sigh blows out across Shiro’s stomach._

_“Stop lying. You know exactly what I mean.” And there it is. Keith doing what he does best and cutting to the heart of the matter in a matter of a sentence. “You mean so much to me, Shiro.”_

Shiro’s eyes snap open, grey irises boring into Keith’s violet. He rushes up, pressing kisses to Keith’s face everywhere he can reach skin.

“Perfect. You’re so perfect, honey. I love you so much like this.”

Keith smiles back at him. They both forget the leash and the play, delighting in the feeling of skin on skin as Keith changes his angle, rolling his hips deep and steady. Shiro arches up into him, hands pressed against his chest, and Keith wraps his arms around his waist, tugging him in closer.

“I love you, Shiro. I love you.” He leans down, licking into his husband’s mouth, curling his tongue behind his teeth. “God, you mean so much to me.”

Shiro rolls his hips down, meeting Keith thrust for thrust, radiating joy and love.

“I love you too, Keith.”

Shiro sighs with each press of Keith into his body, muscles tightening around him, back bowing further. Shiro knows he’s close. He can feel it in the flutter of his muscles, in the sweat rolling down his face and dripping on his neck. Their sweat mingles together, rivers coalescing and flowing under the collar. The collar. Right. Keith seems to remember at the same time he does, because the moment the thought hits, Keith reaches out on the bed, digging through the sheets until he finds the leather handle. He takes it up in his hand and looks down at Shiro, arching an eyebrow.

“You ready to finish, baby?” he asks, yanking it back until Shiro collides into him.

“ _Yes,_ ” Shiro hisses, sitting upright. “But I wanna ride you.”

Keith smiles sharp and biting. “If you insist.”

The world blurs as Keith takes him by the waist and flips himself back on the mattress, leaving Shiro perching over his chest like a cat. It still takes his breath away how strong and powerful Keith is. Keith can toss him around like nothing, and it just _does things_ to him. Keith grabs the leash again, wrapping the chain around his fist a few times to shorten the lead. He yanks hard, pulling Shiro down to his chest and rubbing his dick up between his asscheeks.

“Then get to it,” he answers, angling himself just right and bucking up, driving his cock up into Shiro until his balls hit skin. Shiro yells out into the room, and briefly thanks himself for choosing a secluded vacation spot. It’s not often he gets so loud in bed, but things like this always do it for him. Keith pulls down and snaps his hips up again, dragging along Shiro’s insides perfectly, sending heat coiling sharply in his gut. Shiro sits up, pulling off of Keith until just the head of his dick is still inside him. He looks imperiously down at his husband, smiling at his flushed face.

“Yes, sir.”

He drops his hips and Keith curses loud, yanking down on the leash. He kisses Shiro hard, all tongue and teeth and spit.

“C’mon, baby. I know you wanna come for me,” he murmurs.

“Oh my god,” Shiro breathes, rolling his hips and whining as Keith drives up to meet him in perfect time with every downward thrust. “Oh my god, Keith. God, I love fucking you so much.”

Keith wraps the leash around his hand again, leaving mere inches of chain between his fist and Shiro’s neck. He pulls Shiro down until they lay face-to-face, Shiro’s dick trapped between their bellies in perfect friction.

“Prove it,” he growls, snapping his hips up and dropping a biting kiss to Shiro’s lips. Shiro’s mind stops processing information, only allowing him to feel every heated drag of their skin, every punctuated hit of his husband’s cock inside him, every scrape of teeth against his throat. “Come for me, Takashi. _Now._ ”

With a final gasp and roll of his hips, Shiro comes with blinding force, painting their stomachs and chests.

“That’s a good boy,” Keith groans, thrusting into him a few more times and following him in hot release. “I love you so much.”

_Shiro awakens several hours later to find violet eyes staring directly into his face. He jerks upright, confused and disoriented until Keith reaches out to take his face between gentle hands._

_“Hey, hey you’re fine. It’s just me.”_

_Keith smoothes his touch down across his biceps and slowly but surely, Shiro’s pulse slows. He cracks his eyes open to Keith’s face smiling apologetically down at him._

_“Good to have you back.”_

_“Good to be back.”_

_“I’m sorry, I should have thought about how you would handle me being so close to your face.”_

_“It’s alright,” Shiro sighs. “I know you’d never hurt me, it’s fine.”_

_Keith’s hands still, resting along the crooks of Shiro’s elbows. He glances up to his face through sleep-mussed bangs, a contemplative expression on his face._

_“Do you?” Keith asks._

_“What? What do you mean?”_

_“I mean, do you really know I’d never hurt you? I don’t think you get it.”_

_Shiro’s blood runs cold._

_“Keith, I don’t understand, what-”_

_“I love you so much, Takashi,” Keith says, and Shiro’s pulse skitters to a stop at the sound of his name on Keith’s tongue. He goes silent, taking in Keith’s expression. He’s so lovely in the dull light, so open and honest. There’s no pressure in his gaze, no expectation._

_“Shiro, I don’t want us to lose each other because we can’t talk around this, so we need to just talk about-”_

_“Say it again,” he interrupts, sitting up on his knees._

_“Uh. What?”_

_“Say my name again,” Shiro pleads, wrapping Keith’s hands in his fingers._

_“Shiro?”_

_“Not that one.”_

_Keith’s face flashes in recognition. He takes a deep breath, bracing himself._

_“Takashi.”_

_Shiro lunges forward, taking Keith in his arms. Keith shakes in the circle of his grip. They stare at each other, eyes dropping to lips, bouncing back to eyes._

_“Keith,” Shiro breathes, leaning forward. “Can I-”_

_“God, yes. Please.”_

_Their first kiss isn’t all sparks and fireworks and birds chirping in a sunny sky, like all those bullshit songs croon on about. Their first kiss isn’t all hungry passion and probing tongues and biting teeth like terrible romance novels babble on about. It’s a warm, soft press of lips against each other. It’s laced fingers and stuttered breathing. It’s awkwardly trying to rearrange their knees on a too small bed. It’s trying not to jostle each other too much in their quest to embrace each other._

_They break apart and silent moments slip by. They lean their backs against the wall behind the bed with clasped hands._

_“So,” Keith begins after a while, “we’re definitely getting married later, right?”_

_Shiro chokes on a loud laugh and pulls Keith back down to lay on the mattress._

They curl together in a hot bath, bubbles piled high around their shoulders and spilling over the edge of the tub. Keith has Shiro pulled in his lap, their fingers laced and dancing with each other through the suds.

“You want me to wash your hair?” he asks, and Shiro laughs.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Shiro thinks back over his memories. He thinks back over the entirety of their history together. He thinks over all the things they’ve been through and all the things they still want to go through together. He thinks about their future, open and bright before them, sprawled out in a million tiny threads they can pluck at their leisure. He smiles and lays his head back on Keith’s shoulder.

“I’m great,” he says resolutely.

“Good.”

Shiro closes his eyes, listening to Keith humming softly, a cheek pressed against Shiro’s hair.

“So,” Keith begins after a while, “we’re definitely doing that again later, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed it!  
> i wanted to try something a little new, so hopefully it panned out!
> 
> feel free to scoot by and see me over on [tumblr](http://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/)! i'd love to talk to you about these good, good boys!


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